The Last Shot eBook

XXX

MARTA MEETS HUGO

The general staff-officer of the Grays, who had tasted
Marta’s temper on his first call, when he returned
the next morning did not enter unannounced. He
rang the door-bell.

“I have a message for you from General Westerling,”
he said to her. “The general expresses
his deep regret at the unavoidable damage to your
house and grounds and has directed that everything
possible be done immediately in the way of repairs.”

In proof of this the officer called attention to a
group of service-corps men who were removing the sand-bags
from the first terrace. Others were at work in
the garden setting uprooted plants back into the earth.

“His Excellency says,” continued the officer,
“that, although the house is so admirably suited
for staff purposes, we will find another if you desire.”

He was too polite and too considerate in his attitude
for Marta not to meet him in the same spirit.

“That is what we should naturally prefer,”
and Marta bowed her head in indecision.

“We should have to begin installing the telegraph
and telephone service on the lower floor at once,”
he remarked. “In fact, all arrangements
must be made before the general’s arrival.”

“He has been a guest here before,” she
said reminiscently and detachedly.

Her head dropped lower, in apparent disregard of his
presence, as she took counsel with herself. She
was perfectly still, without even the movement of
an eyelash. Other considerations than any he might
suggest, he subtly understood, held her attention.
They were the criterion by which she would at length
assent or dissent, and nothing could hurry the Marta
of to-day, who yesterday had been a creature of feverish
impulse.

It seemed a long time that he was watching that wonderful
profile under the very black hair, soft with the softness
of flesh, yet firmly carved. She lifted her head
gradually, her eyes sweeping past the spot where Dellarme
had lain dying, where Feller had manned the automatic,
where Stransky had thrown Pilzer over the parapet.
He saw the glance arrested and focussed on the flag
of the Grays, which was floating from a staff on the
outskirts of the town, and slowly, glowingly, the light
rippling on its folds was reflected in her face.

“She is for us! She is a Gray!” he
thought triumphantly. The woman and the flag!
The matter-of-fact staff-officer felt the thrill of
sentiment.

“I think we can arrange it,” Marta announced
with a rare smile of assent.

“Then I’ll go back to town and set the
signal-corps men to work,” he said.

“And when you come you will find the house at
your disposal,” she assured him.

Except that he was raising his cap instead of saluting,
he was conscious of withdrawing with the deference
due to a superior.

In place of the smile, after he had gone, came a frown
and a look in her eyes as if at something revolting;
then the smile returned, to be succeeded by the frown,
which was followed by an indeterminate shaking of
the head.